


Mercy on my Mind

by snapbackbuddies



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Serial Killers, Threats of Violence, Whump, android body horror, basically connor gets threatened by a serial killer, inspired by one (1) gif my girlfriend showed me of mindhunter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22192258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapbackbuddies/pseuds/snapbackbuddies
Summary: "I will dismantle you until there is no way evenKamskican salvage you.”The thirium flow in his chest shifts as his pump regulator stutters.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor, not exactly the main focus though!! connor is the main focus
Comments: 10
Kudos: 202
Collections: Detroit: Become Deviant





	Mercy on my Mind

**Author's Note:**

> hi here's some whump i wrote two months ago and randomly felt the urge to finish today!
> 
> hope y'all enjoy, it's been like a year since i've posted

A pleased _[CONFESSION OBTAINED]_ pings across his HUD despite the unease in his stomach. Connor searches Hall for a moment, his eyes flicking over his face, desperately leeching every microexpression and final detail he can from his chilling face so he never has to speak to him or look at him or be near him ever again. Responsible for the deaths of at least fourteen androids, and Connor had to see every one– had to carefully examine each and every body just so he could follow the trail to Hall– and for all that, he never wants to see his face ever again. Connor draws in an unnecessary breath and begins to stand. As he rises to his feet, though, Hall lurches forward to snatch Connor’s tie in his fist with a rattle of chains. He yanks Connor down to meet him, wrapping Connors tie around his fist until his knuckles press to the base of Connor’s throat. His proximity sensor warns him of the touch, and his pressure sensors throw the negligible pounds of pressure applied to his throat up on the side of his vision.

Every inch of his programming is blaring a red alarm in his mind. His LED cycles crimson as Hall presses them cheek to cheek and sets his mouth on his ear. He keeps his face carefully unaffected and blank.

Stubble grates against his cheek.

“When I get out of there,” Hall murmurs, hot and vile and crawling. Tendrils of dread go shooting down Connor’s spine. “I will tear you apart, piece by artificial piece. I will dismantle you until there is no way even _Kamski_ can salvage you.”

The thirium flow in his chest shifts as his pump regulator stutters. The distribution of blue blood throughout him goes suddenly and thoroughly unbalanced as his body reroutes blood flow to his legs and shoulders so he can _get away get away get away_. It takes every bit of power in his rational mind not to bolt. He carefully measures his breathing. After a moment of Connor's systems going silently haywire, Hall releases his tie and Connor leans back, LED still spinning red into red into red again and again. 

As Connor pulls away, Hall snatches the tip of his tie, and levels him with with an intense stare. Connor stares at the flecks of blue blood following the line of Hall's right cheekbone. They're invisible to the human eye. They're not invisible to Connor, but even they are easier to look at than Hall's eyes. His eyes are dark– there’s some kind of joy inside them, and Connor doesn't want to see it, he doesn't want to see it.

“When I’m finally finished with you," he says, and wrenches Connor an inch closer, so Connor has no choice but to look him in the eye, "the killing strike will be a mercy.”

He doesn't release Connor for several seconds, and Connor feels his breath come faster against his will. Hall smiles and releases him for good, lowers his cuffed hands obediently to the table they're tethered to. Connor jerks away from him the instant he does, no longer capable of discretion.

He forces his titanium spine to straighten and adjusts his tie, smoothes out the rumples where Hall crumpled it in his fist. “Thank you for your cooperation,” Connor says flatly. “I’m sure the court case will proceed quickly.”

He makes it out of the doorway of the interrogation room and collapses. 

It happens in a single off-kilter beat of his heart. His weak legs give out, and he sprawls across the floor of the hallway. His fingernails scrabble at the tile, his back arching as his chest expands rapidly, his lungs forcing in air in a last-ditch attempt to stabilize his scrambled system.

Every stitch that was holding him together has snapped. He's gasping, shuddering uncontrollably on the precinct floor. He's sure he's making a damn racket, but he can't– he can't think of a damn thing that isn't a body they found at each of Hall's crime scenes. His memory recall is yanking up images of dismembered androids until his surroundings disappear. All he can see is white corpses drained of blue blood, greyed and broken optical components, scratched up audio processors– he left them blind, deaf, and terrified, and then he ripped them limb from limb, gutted them, left a particular young man's head hanging on by nothing more than wires–– 

Hands grapple at his shoulders so suddenly he can't help the snarl of terror that leaves him. He curls further into himself, arms bracketing his head and legs kicking out once. "Connor– Connor! Connor, stop, son! You're alright, it's Hank!"

Hank hauls him upright, pulling him off the floor and up against his chest. Connor is gasping like a drowning man, and smothers his face in Hank's neck to both lessen the noise and surround himself with Hank's comforting smell. "I– He– I don't–"

Connor jolts and suddenly heaves, parting from Hank momentarily to lurch forward, hunching over himself with a wretch. The blood that had been diverted elsewhere rushes back into his torso as his fight or flight response subsides and floods his chest. A nasty feeling expands in his gut and crawls up his throat. He gags again.

"Shit– shit, you gonna be sick?"

"I can't get sick," Connor spits like it's ripped out of him. "But I can't– I don't– I don't want to end up like them. I don't– please, I want to–"

"Kid, kid, please, you're safe. He can't hurt ya, he's not gonna hurt you. I have you."

"I don't want to die."

Hank tugs his shivering body tighter into his chest. "He's never puttin' his hands on you, Connor, I swear to you. With his confession there's no way he's getting out of prison with less than a life sentence. You'll never see him again, you never have to see him again."

Connor clings to him, hands fisted in the back of Hank's shirt. "He told me– he told me he was going to…" Connor swallows very hard and nestles closer. Deep breaths, he tells himself. He knows he's being irrational, but it's– it's hard to treat himself the same gentle way he treats a victim. "He told me he was going to get out. And he was going to f-find me. And that when he killed me…" Connor trails off.

Hank is waiting for him to finish, but he just trembles and draws in a shaky breath.

Hank smooths his hands over Connor's back. "He's not coming anywhere near you."

"I don't want to–"

"You're not going to die, Connor."

Another shiver runs down Connor's spine. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and buries his face in Hank's neck again, pressing himself as close as he can. Hank's heart beats steady against his chest, where he feels his own start to slow to match pace with Hank's.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! kudos and comments are always appreciated!!
> 
> find me on tumblr @stacispratt!!
> 
> p.s. im sorry abt the weak ending. i don't know how to write


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